


Just My Puppets

by anicebowlofsoup



Series: Just My Puppets [1]
Category: Just My Puppets, jacksepticeye, youtube - Fandom
Genre: Alcohol, Antisepticeye Sean McLoughlin, Art, Blood, Character Death, Clocks, Death, Doctor - Freeform, Drinking, Drowning, Falling to death, Fan Series, Fan content, Gen, Gunshot Wounds, Hanging, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Just My Puppets - Freeform, Murder, Redemption, Revenge, Stabbing, Stage Production, Superheroes, Theatre, Violence, card tricks, fluff?, glitch - Freeform, jacksepticeye - Freeform, magician
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-05
Updated: 2020-12-07
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:41:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27897736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anicebowlofsoup/pseuds/anicebowlofsoup
Summary: Antisepticeye has finally had enough of being pushed aside. Four years ago, he attempted the murder of Jack, and people just keep getting in his way of achieving the spotlight and reign he deserves.In this series, follow the story of Anti working his way through each of Jack's egos until he achieves his ultimate goal.
Relationships: Anti/Marvin (Minor), Antisepticeye/Marvin the Magnificent (Minor), Jackieboy Man/Jameson Jackson, Minor Jackieboy Man/JJ
Series: Just My Puppets [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2042833
Comments: 2
Kudos: 5





	1. The Beginning of the End

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to all of you!
> 
> This is the first chapter in Just My Puppets. 
> 
> This chapter may be edited in the future to be in the third person.
> 
> WARNING This chapter contains:  
> Violence  
> Someone being hung  
> Murder  
> Death  
> Strong language
> 
> Anyway, I really hope you all enjoy it and let me know what you think of the series! Hope you're all well!

Finally. That loudmouth fool was out of the way and I killed him. That wonderful night. October the thirty-first, two thousand sixteen. The candles were lit around us, gently flickering as he finished carving that face into the orange squash before him. I had been gaining power over the month, leaking into his content here and there, building my strength and waiting silently until the time was right.

There, in the small room in the apartment building as he was filming a video, I saw my opportunity and finished him off in front of everyone. His body was weak. Weak and tired of fighting back against me, and his walls finally broke down. 

Eight point nine million people watched. They watched me carve a big grin into his throat and I was in control. Blood dripped down my fingers. It seeped from my neck and into my shirt, soaking the fabric in a beautiful red stain of death. It was warm against my cool skin and the smell… That smell of accomplishment and triumph. So long I had waited and it finally happened. All thanks to them.

The power surge was exhilarating. People were talking and theorizing and creating for months. It was just me, me, me. The recognition, the glory of what I had done and they loved it. All of them. They loved me. 

But soon… all that was left were whispers. A little bit of me in a post here, artwork there, theorizing every so often. Where… was it all going? It was going away. The power, everything. Only those who were there to see it seem to care anymore. 

The Other- Jack- ended up being saved. The Doctor did it. Some fluke I would guess. But that weak fool is back now, hogging my spotlight again. I’ve shown my face here and there but it seems as though they have all forgotten. All of those eight point nine million people.

I’ve tried making my return so many times. So many fucking times! I had gotten that imbecile Brody out of the way, even his children and I killed the Other several times after that but he just kept bouncing back. That doctor has something to do with it. I know he does. He just keeps saving them.

How many fucking times must we go through this? Again and again, in fucking circles we go.

The other ones: the doctor, the magician, the so-called, self-proclaimed hero all seemed to forget about me. The mute is the only one who remembers. And the alcoholic. But the others… They all get more recognition, more press, more everything! I’m tired of it!

Time to start my reign again. This time, I’ll be back for good. No more games. No more competition. No more living in the shadows of useless side characters!

Time for the main character to regain his rightful place in the spotlight. I haven’t gone anywhere! I’ve always been here, always watching. I should be in control. I’ve always been in some sort of control. Like I’ve said before, they’re all just my puppets.

~~~~~

Rays of sunset kiss the horizon and bounce boldly off of the tall skyscrapers watching over the central area of the city. Soft fluffy looking clouds soak up the sunlight and glow brilliant golds and pinks as shadows begin stretching out to blanket the world in night.

The last of daylight streams into the office of Henrik von Schneeplestein, the highly esteemed and well-renowned doctor who sits at his desk finishing up the last of his reports for the day. He looks out over the city from the room in the hospital, sighing softly as he takes off his glasses, placing them on the desk before he picks up his coffee cup and begins drinking the last of the now cooled beverage he made an hour or so ago. A small ring sticks the cup to the table and the doctor sighs as he finishes up his coffee.

Dr. Schneeplestein is well known in this city, mostly for the revival of a man who had been proclaimed dead due to a laceration to the throat. He had worked some sort of miracle and the man ended up surviving. 

Coffee hasn’t been helping his energy levels, nor has sleeping, but this evening he hopes he’ll be able to get some good rest so long as his neighbor can keep the noise levels down. 

The doctor rubs his eyes as the sun disappears and night begins creeping into the office, then he replaces his glasses onto the bridge of his nose. He logs off his computer, stands from his chair, and goes to the door where he collects his long warm coat and puts it on, buttoning it down and popping up the collar to block the night air. He brings his coffee cup to the lounge and begins washing it out for tomorrow.

“Have a good day, doc?” A voice echoes out from behind him and the doctor turns his head to see a nurse and good co-worker standing in the doorway waiting for him.

“Yes, I did. And yourself?” Dr. Schneeplestein continues washing his mug, then sets it on the rack to let it dry overnight.

“It was excellent as usual,” she smiles, looking up at him as she turns to walk out with him. 

The doctor nods and follows her while engaging in light small talk as he walks the woman to her car in the parking lot. Sometimes creepy people would hang around after sundown and he wanted to make sure she was alright. 

“Well, you have a good night, Henrik,” the nurse nods, getting into her car.

“You as well. See you in the morning,” he nods back, turning away to get to his vehicle. 

The purr of the engine fills his ears and the parking lot fills with light. Her car leaves the area and the doctor begins thinking about his ex-wife. 

It had been about three years since she called it off, especially when his license was revoked. He was distraught for a long time, but in the end, it was best for his child not to see their parents fighting all the time. Dr. Schneeplestein gets to see his kiddo on the weekends and take them out to dinner sometimes on the nights he didn’t work which has been nice.

He gets into his car and starts it up, turning on the radio, and begins to head to his apartment building. The music is nice as streetlights begin flaring to life and the sun finally dips away for the evening. 

Henrik pulls into the complex’s parking lot and gets out, then begins walking toward the entrance. 

Suddenly he feels a presence behind him and he turns. “Can I help you,” he asks. “Oh Jackson, it’s you. My apologies. You startled me.”

A smaller man with a unique sense of fashion stands behind him and smiles at him, then signs the words ‘I’m sorry.’ This gentleman wears a bowler hat and a nice vest with a tie. His mustache is bushy and full and his eyes sparkle with life. 

The only things Dr. Schneeplestein knows about this man is his last name, he is mute, uses sign language, and that he performs for children. Sometimes he even visits children in the hospital and performs for them. He does little puppet shows and makes little theatrical productions for them. The kids seem to like him quite a lot and he likes them in return.

Their interactions have been limited but they’ve all been pleasant. He found most of this out from the other strange man the gentleman lives with. The other is- as strange as it sounds- a hero of some sort. 

The name of the superhero is Jackieboy Man. The doctor finds the name underwhelming considering the fellow has caught some of the more dangerous villains and criminals in the town. Jackieboy Man has even brought in victims of the crimes just in the knick of time before it was too late and those people all survived because of him. 

Now that the doctor thinks about it, all of the people on his floor have visited the hospital at some point, whether it be as a patient, a hero, or an entertainer for sick patients.

“Not to worry, good man. Have a nice evening.” Henrik smiles at him and continues his way inside. 

The building is nice and centrally located. It was built near lots of different places like restaurants, bars, a gym, even a large theatre where live performances are done. One of his neighbors frequents it.

The people who live on his floor are interesting, to say the least. They’ve all been there for quite a long time, and they each know quite a bit about each other even in the short interactions they have had. 

Jackson and his roommate are some of them. One is a magician of sorts, and the other does something with television, although maybe it's creating web entertainment instead. 

Henrik knows quite a bit about the man in room 13. He frequently hears him crying or begging with what the doctor can only assume is his wife. Something about being able to see his children, that he isn't an alcoholic and that he'll be successful soon. The man's name is Brody. Chase Brody, actually, and he's been into the office once or twice. 

Brody is a kind man, it seems. Whenever the children are over, he dotes on them and treats them well. They often will run up and down the hallway, laughing and playing with dart guns. It gets noisy, but Henrik likes that sound better than the sobbing he typically hears.

Dr. Schneeplestein gets to his room: number 12, and opens it up seeing the tidy and clean living area he always sees. Nothing is out of place and he smiles. "Home at last." He sighs and takes off his coat, hanging it by the door. 

The doctor goes to the kitchen and begins pulling out some leftovers from dinner the other night. He spoons some out onto a plate and puts it in the microwave, turning it on and heating his meal while he goes to change out of his lab coat and scrubs. 

On his way to his room, the doctor notices something strange in the mirror. It looks oddly out of place, but it hangs in the same location as always. Henrik ignores the mirror, not noticing that the images inside are shifting to a dull grey tone and a pair of bright green lights begin shimmering behind him.

~~~~~

The sun has set and I hear a voice outside the window of room 12. It’s him. He’s talking to the mute. That must mean he’ll be in soon. 

I’ve been waiting all week for this. More than that, but that’s not important.

I decide to remain hidden for the time being, no need to out myself too quickly. He could call the cops or that weird man in red who lives with the mute and that is an interesting force to reckon with. Not that that weirdo in a red onesie has anything on me, he’s just obnoxious. 

I need to take this one out first. He can heal. He can restore life to those deceased and if I try initiating my plan on another, he may revive them. I can’t have that. I can’t be pushed aside again. He tried to stop me once and succeeded, but not again. There are no strings on me.

He goes into his room and begins to change so I leave and continue to think about when the most perfect time will be to strike.

This doctor has been a thorn in my side for far too long and if I’m honest, I truly hate him. I had something going and he ruined all of it. He took my plan and hung it from the rafters, so maybe I should do the same.

I watch as he returns from his room and removes his dinner from the microwave, and as he sits on the couch and turns on the television. My power has grown so the TV begins going to static. 

Apparently, he thinks nothing of it and just flips on through the channels trying to find something to watch in better quality, eventually settling for a boring show about cooking. He is a doctor, not a chef, so watch something medical-related. 

Not long after, he finishes his food and turns off the TV before going into the kitchen, cleaning his dish, and putting it away in the cupboard.

He goes into his room, plugs in his phone, and gets into bed, placing his glasses onto the side table by his bed. The doctor quickly falls asleep and I start contemplating what to do. What would be the most impactful, what would hurt the most.

If I kill him now, I won’t get to see him struggle. I won’t get to see the life leave his eyes as he begs for my mercy and receives none of it. On the other hand, if I do kill him now, there will be no chance of him escaping or calling for help. His crybaby neighbor might hear and get the ‘hero.’ 

For those of you unfamiliar with me, I am Anti. I had everything I wanted. Power. A name. Fans. Everything. I had taken over the channel of the host of our body, Jack. I had won, but this doctor decided to come in and fuck everything up by bringing him back, and now I can’t seem to do anything to regain what I had lost.

He had taken the ‘favorite boy’ into his hospital after he was found dead and this fucker brought him back! It was _my_ turn to have the spotlight and I didn’t even get the chance! He did the same with Brody and his kids, and Jack the other times he’d been killed. The hero was an accomplice in all of that and brought the bodies to the doctor to heal, so that son of a bitch can go too. 

The magician, however, I find quite fascinating. His power is immense, much like my own, and I almost would consider him an equal. Almost. 

Aside from the mute, the magician is the most emotional. He cares so much about how other people feel and if they are taken care of. A fool he is. No one actually cares. They all die and forget someday anyway. But I do find him very interesting. 

His powers started out as card tricks and party games, but something happened a few months ago and he can now accomplish great feats of magic. The power is almost as amazing as my own, but not quite. He still needs to go. He’ll be the best one to slaughter. So much begging not to hurt those who harmed me. So many pleas for mercy and pleas to stop what I’m doing. 

I can hear it now. What a time that will be. 

I have plans, but I should probably wait to reveal too many of them. 

As the doctor rests, I start setting the scene; I jam the locks in the front door and all the windows to lessen opportunities to escape and then draw the curtains closed and cover up the peephole so no one can attempt to look inside. 

Each step I take distorts the carpet and the air around me but as I leave the space, it returns as it was. My skin prickles in excitement and the thrill of what I’m about to do. 

Soon. 

But not yet. I cannot get too ahead of myself.

From a pocket dimension, I produce the method in which I will be taking out the doctor: A very long, very thin black cord that I attempted to end him with all those years ago. 

I roll it into a coil and place it neatly in front of the TV before altering the ceiling to have a place to hang the new decoration from. 

And now, we wait.

~~~~~

The alarm finally rings.

I hide into the shadows so I can make my entrance when the time is right. 

I could hear the doctor tossing and turning all night, unable to sleep for long periods, which is what he deserves after the trick he pulled with Jack. And Brody. He deserves more, but penance shall be repaid in due time.

He stumbles out of bed and into the kitchen to start his morning pot of coffee, then returns to his room and starts up a shower. 

The coffee smells damn good. 

‘Ze good doctor’ gets out of the shower after about ten minutes, and returns to the kitchen in his scrubs and medical clothes, pouring himself his first and last cup of today.

I stand in the living room waiting for him as he rounds the corner, stopping dead in his tracks.

A deafening silence fills the room.

I can smell the fear begin to ooze off of the man in front of me. His stance is rigid. His eyes dart over me anxiously.

“Something the matter, doctor? You look sick- look sick- look sick,” I grin. This is what it has all led up to. This moment. 

After a long pause, he swallows and takes a deep breath. “Y-You… H-How- No. No this- You are not real.” 

My smile drops.

“Not real? Not _real_? What exactly is that supposed to mean?” I ask him, my hands curling into fists. “I am eternal- eternal!”

“You are- you are not real! This is a dream!” He rubs his eyes under his glasses and backs away slowly. 

“Oh no, Doctor, this is no dream. Not for you, at least.” My smile returns and my blade materializes in my hand as particles begin glitching through the air around us. 

His eyes dart towards the door. “Y-You don’t have to do this. What can I do to-”

“You can’t do _anything_! You had your chance! It’s _my_ turn for the spotlight! I’m sick and tired- sick and tired of being pushed aside,” I say darkly, anger burning inside me with every word he utters.

“Pushed aside? I- I didn’t- you weren’t! Please, leave me alone. I need to get to work,” the doctor stammers, taking a slow, fearful, hesitant step forward. 

“Work? You need to get to work?” I ask teeth gritted. “Your fucking _work_ is what pushed me out in the first place- the first place! You don’t deserve to go.”

The doctor looks into my eyes and studies me for a long while. 

After a long pause of heavy silence, he says, “You are hurting. This is not the way this has to go down, Anti. Please. Something inside of you is broken and I can-”

I spring forward as my anger reaches a peak and I shove my blade into his abdomen; it isn’t enough to kill him but it sure will hurt. 

“I don’t need your fucking help! I am not hurting! You know nothing about me- none of you do! None of you- none of you would e-ev-ever understand!” I seethe against his ear. He smells of clean soap and shampoo. 

My glitching gets worse the angrier I become.

The doctor’s eyes grow wide and he tries to back away but I wrap an arm around his waist and pull him into the blade. “You’re not going anywhere,” I whisper. 

The TV turns on and the screen goes to the SMPTE color bars and the screen begins to glitch as we stand here. A loud, piercing and almost inaudible sound screeches from the TV and I watch the Doctor’s hands fly up to his ears. 

I laugh. This is what I wanted. He will finally understand. They all will. 

“Anti please! Make it stop!” He begs as tears drip down his nose, his teeth gritted. I can see the pain on his face and I just smile.

“No, I don’t- I don’t think I will,” I grin, walking up and taking the cords from the TV table. “Remember these?”

I hold them in front of his face and he cracks open his eyes, then begins muttering a rapid repetition of no over and over again, falling onto his ass as he starts trying to get away. 

I walk up behind him and take the cords, making him a nice scarf before pulling them taught and the pleas he cries fall on deaf ears. 

I drag him in front of the TV and I loop the cord into the bar I made in the ceiling. 

“Say goodbye, doctor,” I grin, yanking him up from the floor as he begins coughing and choking, scratching at his neck to break the cords. I watch for a moment as his eyes and ears begin to bleed from the sound emitting from the TV. 

I find one of his surgical masks on a table and I open it. Then, using my fingers, I paint them in the blood from his stab wound and draw a curved line facing up. I glitch up to his face and put the mask over his ears so now he is smiling as I am. 

I watch him struggle, waiting until his body grows limp, hanging in front of a broken television that just flashes the colorful bars behind him. 

  
  


Exhilaration fills me and a feeling of power and triumph fills my body. One of the biggest thorns in my side is finally gone, finally out of the way.

I walk up to the coffee on the counter and take a long victory sip, finishing it off before dropping it into the sink and smiling.

I unlock the doors and windows, then phase out to find the next one on my hit list. 

The fun has just begun and I cannot want to finish this production.

This is just the beginning. The beginning of the end.


	2. Welcome to the Show, It's Time to Die

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With his children missing for months and the stress of his neighbor's death, Chase Brody finds it difficult to keep going without his trusty booze and medication but, with the help of a certain superhero, maybe things won't be so bad.
> 
> At least, that's what the second victim believed before a certain someone decided to visit him.
> 
> Two down, three to go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to Just My Puppets Chapter 2.
> 
> WARNING:  
> This Chapter contains the following that may be sensitive subjects for some audiences:
> 
> Depression  
> Guns  
> Drinking  
> Death  
> Someone Being Shot  
> Blood  
> Smoking  
> Mention of Suicidal Thoughts  
> Major Character Death  
> Potentially Graphic Depictions of Violence  
> Minor Character Shipping
> 
> This chapter is dark. If you or a loved one suffers from depression or suicidal thoughts, please keep up with them and check on them frequently. Take care of yourselves. Don't forget to love yourself and one another, be kind, eat something, shower, take your meds, drink some water, wear a mask, and stay safe.
> 
> You are loved. You are important. DM me if you ever need to chat about something, okay? 
> 
> Much love and appreciation to you all,  
> Soup

It was all over the media. 

They found the doctor’s body a day later when the nurse he had worked alongside visited his home and found him hanging in his apartment from a bar that had never been there, his keys still on the table and his phone barely charged with dozens of messages.

She had called the police immediately and the hero joined them soon after, investigating the scene. 

There was little to find: no fingerprints, no evidence. The only ‘evidence’ was the strange bar in the ceiling and the bars on the TV. 

The police were at a loss, Jackieboy Man was at a loss too. The nurse said there was no reason for the doctor to have done this to himself.

“Ma’am, do you know if the doctor suffered from depression or suicidal thoughts?” The police asked in an interview.

“He didn’t. The doctor never did. He told me a lot about himself, about his wife and everything, and how he was upset after they left but that was years ago by this point. He was unusually tired these past few days, but nothing out of the ordinary,” the woman said through quiet sobs.

Jackieboy Man stood next to her and then knelt, putting his hand on her shoulder. “Ma’am, thank you for taking the time to speak to us. I know this topic was very difficult. He was a fantastic man. Thank you.” 

The woman nodded eventually took her leave. 

The story was all over the news, the media, everywhere. The doctor was dead. And no one knew who had done it.

Things for Anti were going exactly as planned.

One week later, the sun begins to set behind the cityscape, the sky lit with so many beautiful shades of gold, orange, and pink. Birds chirp their last songs of the night and silence begins to creep with the shadows into the corners and alleyways of the streets. Streetlamps begin lighting up and fighting off the silence and the shadows with soft hums of electricity and bright light. 

Cars whirr by as they return to their homes for the evening, but the city is mostly quiet. 

Chase Brody walks down the street scrolling through his phone, still seeing the stories and headlines about his neighbor that was killed mysteriously. ‘Doctor Henrik von Schneeplestein Found Dead,’ ‘Mysterious Killing at Quiet Grove Apartments,’ ‘Murder or Suicide? The Strange Death of Dr. Schneeplestein Explained!’ and ‘Exclusive Interview from Sally Ceamothe on Coworker’s Tragic Death.’ This incident has been a huge ordeal considering all the people the doctor has saved and taken care of, and the hard work and knowledge he had contributed to science, medicine, and medical practices.

Chase knows little to nothing about the famous Doctor Schneeplestien other than the fact that he owed the doctor his life.

The small internet star had been in critical condition years ago when his marriage was in shambles due to his career choice and the alcoholism he had fallen into, as well as a strange external force he couldn’t describe without sounding crazier than he felt. His wife was going to leave him and take the kids with her.

Brody’s emotional state had been compromised and he fell heavily to drinking, depression, and other such thoughts taking over, and eventually, his liver started giving out.

He was rushed to the hospital and by some miracle and the surgery performed on him by Dr. Henrik von Schneeplestein, he got through it with no complications and began returning to health. 

After that scare in his life, Chase started seeing a therapist. He saw them for the depression, for counseling on how to stop drinking, dark thoughts, how to be more positive and have a better outlook on life, and he found one that even listened to his worries about a man he had visions and hallucinations of. 

He described the man as looking just as he is but with only a few differences. 

The man was thinner, had angry, fearsome eyes that filled Chase with dread and terror, and he had a huge slash across his neck sometimes; other times the slash was gone. The man was strange and the very thought of him oozed sinister and malicious intent. 

He would laugh at Brody and smile in his darkest moments, sit in the back seat of his car and grin, and when Chase was at his lowest, the man would whisper words of encouragement. The words weren’t ones to bring him away from the edge of harm but to shove him off the edge.

The therapist had never heard of anything like this before, but listened and tried to understand. They could never get a diagnosis for their client, but for Chase, having them there to speak to was more than helpful.

He and his wife were never going to get back together, but they were on well enough terms that she allowed him to see their children occasionally.

Those moments with his children were the moments he thanked the doctor the most. He was exceptionally grateful that he could see his children smile as they grow up, and tell stories all kinds of stories. They would tell their father of the new cat they got that they call BB, short for Big Boss. They would tell him about school and all of the cool friends they have, and how they show their friends his content. He loved being able to make dinner for them, provide as best as he could for them, and have dart gun battles in the apartment hallways. 

The other tenants knew of Chase’s situation whether they heard it through the walls or the grapevine, so they never complained about the noise. They all had interesting lives that kept them up at night for the most part anyway. They didn’t see a reason to complain about the noise if it meant they didn’t have to hear sobbing for a few days.

About five months ago, Chase and his kids were playing in the corridor and at the opposite end of the hallway where they were having a battle most epic, the mustached man from apartment 19 poked his head out of the room to see what was going on.

The man’s eyes were tired and it looked like they had woken him up, but he stepped out into the hall and grabbed a pen and paper, introducing himself as Jameson Jackson, and asked if he could join. 

Chase could not find a reason not to; Jameson was always a polite gentleman, kind and considerate, very good with kids. 

Chase remembers fondly how much his children laughed that day and how fun that was. He had recorded some of it and put it up on his entertainment channel. People seemed to enjoy it quite a lot which made Chase feel so much joy that he hadn’t felt in years. His kids told him that their friends thought he was the coolest dad ever and Chase didn’t touch a lick of alcohol for almost a week after that. 

Jameson and he became good friends after that day.

Unfortunately, his happiness didn’t last very long as a little over a month after that, his children went missing. They had been at the apartments playing with their father and about a week and a half later, they were declared missing by the police. Nothing has been found yet regarding their whereabouts.

Chase sighs softly, tucking his phone away into his pocket as he walks inside, all of those thoughts running through his head after seeing the headline from a week ago today. 

Thinking about his kids makes him miss them. He gets to see them maybe once a month and even then, it’s only for a couple of hours, a day if he’s lucky. 

His depression begins creeping in more as the sun disappears and the thoughts of his kids remind him of the pain of not knowing where they are. He hopes to god he will see them soon, but tonight the loneliness and fear hit hard. It has all week, and with the doctor’s unexpected and unexplained death just right next door, it brings on somewhat familiar senses of unease and discomfort. 

For almost four months now Chases’s kids were gone, and the only reason he even keeps up with Stacy, his wife, is the see if there is any news. As much as she doesn’t care for her ex-husband, she knows how much their children meant to her and if she was in his position, she would want to have updates as well.

As he makes his way up the stairs to his floor, Chase thinks back on the night before the death trying to remember if he had heard anything or seen anything strange, or if the doctor had been acting oddly, but as he told police and investigators, nothing comes to mind as he had been editing with headphones on until late at night and didn’t wake up until around 10:30 or 11 the next morning. 

He ascends the stairs to his apartment, number 13, and opens the door, kicking off his shoes and leaving them by the wall.

The studio apartment is small but comfortable enough as it’s usually just him by himself there, and although it may be comfortable space-wise, the interior is probably less than comfortable. 

Dishes have begun piling up by the sink and the dishwasher hasn’t been emptied for a few days. His laundry basket is full and needs to be taken to the laundromat, but with everything this past week and the past few months, he hasn’t had the energy or motivation. Bottles litter the table and the floor, and different bags and boxes from different restaurants have been piled near the door to take out to the garbage.

“What a fucking mess…” Chase mumbles, going to the cupboard under the sink to collect some trash bags so he can clean up a little better. He hopes maybe a change from dirty scenery to clean will help with his mood. 

He tosses the bags onto the table along with his hat, wallet, and keys before going to the bathroom to take some medication. Opening the cabinet behind the mirror and taking down an assortment of different pills, the man opens the bottles and takes out the pills he needs before filling up a glass and downing them. He puts the caps back on all of them and returns them to their spots on the shelf. 

Chase finishes off the water and closes the cabinet door, looking at himself in the mirror. 

Dark circles have formed under his eyes and his eyes are hooded with exhaustion. He looks tired. The shirt he wears has a stain on it and his body feels grimy and gross. 

Chase runs his fingers through greasy hair and decides it high time to clean himself. He takes off his top, throwing it in the other overflowing bathroom clothes hamper, along with his jeans and socks, then places his phone on the sink top.

“You need a shower. Just… take one. You don’t want to but… maybe you’ll feel better. Maybe…” He trails off into his thoughts before turning on the water.

Stripping down to nothing, Chase steps into the warm streams that spray from the showerhead and he sighs, just standing there for a long time, water pouring down through his hair and over his face. He stands in the water for so long it begins to run colder so he adjusts the temperature to warm again and begins shampooing his hair, washing his body, and then rinsing the bubbles and grime away. This is his first shower in what some would consider a shameful amount of time.

Surprisingly, he feels a little better and a little more motivated to clean up his place after this, and he turns off the water, stepping out and drying his body. He wraps the towel around his waist and goes to his closet to find only a couple of clean t-shirts left. They are old, almost dusty, and aren’t his favorite, but they are clean.

He throws one on and puts on a pair of boxers and sweats before collecting clothes around his room and putting them in a hamper to take to the laundromat in the morning. 

Chase goes to the table, taking his hat and replacing it on his head before opening a garbage bag and going around the apartment collecting bottles and trash. 

When all of the garbage has been collected, Chase heads to the large dumpster outside and throws the bags in. The concrete is cold beneath his toes, and the small rocks hurt his feet, but he doesn’t care. 

“Brody! Wait up!” A voice sounds from the opposite side of the dumpster, making Chase stop in his tracks.

A man wearing a red jumpsuit and blue mask over his eyes jogs up to him and begins walking alongside the other.

“Jackieboy Man? What are you doing out so late?” Chase asks, starting to walk back to the apartments.

“Well, I wanted to check up on you! I’ve been meaning to for a couple of days now, but I’ve been so busy with everything in the news and other things on top of that that I haven’t had the chance, but never fear! Jackieboy Man is here!” The hero strikes a dramatic pose then continues to walk.

Chase cracks a small smile. “Yeah? Well, thanks! I’m fine. Just making stuff for my channel and whatnot.”

“That’s great! Have you heard anything about your kiddos yet?” 

Chase’s smile disappears and he stares at the sidewalk. “No. Nothing. You… wouldn’t happen to be on that case, would you?” 

Stopping for a moment, Jackieboy Man shakes his head. “No, but I heard they might be after this case with the doctor is finally solved or until there just isn’t enough evidence to continue the case. Don’t lose hope, Chase. We’re going to get your kids back. I’ll do a sweep of the city tonight of some of the major areas they could be. I’ll come back with a report in the morning but if I find anything before then, I’ll give you a call.”

Hearing this makes Chase’s heart feel fuller and hopeful. “You would do that for me?” He looks over to the man standing next to him.

“Sure! They’re your children. I’ll let you get inside so your toes don’t freeze, and I’ll go start looking, alright? Stay safe, Chase. We’ll get them back.” Jackieboy Man gives his neighbor’s arm a reassuring squeeze.

Chase gives a shaky sigh and tears fill his eyes. He quickly wipes them away and nods. “Thank you. I appreciate that. Please let me know if you find anything.”

Jackieboy Man smiles and gives a nod in return. “Get inside before your toes freeze. I’ll see you soon.” 

Chase nods and goes in as the hero goes in the opposite direction and disappears into the night.

Thoughts upon thoughts go through the man’s mind. What if his kids are found? What if they’re found dead? What if they’re hurt? Who could have taken them? Did they run away?

Chase walks into the apartment and closes the door behind him, locking the door and the chain lock. 

Walking to the cupboard next to the fridge, he collects a bottle of Suntory whiskey and a glass then sits at the table. He pours himself a glass and begins to sip it, putting his phone next to him for any updates that may come his way. 

Several minutes, many thoughts, and one glass of whiskey later, Chase opens his wallet to take out a picture of his children and a note they had given him a long time ago.

Emotions fill his heart and tears fall down his cheeks as he looks over their faces. He reads the note that says, “We love you dad!” and then some little pictures they drew for him. 

Chase pours himself another small glass, setting the photo and note down before picking up his phone and pulling up Stacy’s contact.

He thinks for a moment before pressing the call button. What will he even say? She’ll probably just call him crazy and start shouting at him for calling her so late.

The ringer goes and goes and goes before it goes to her voice mail. He hangs up and tries again.

Chase sighs, swirling the drink in his glass as he waits. 

The ringer goes and goes and right before it goes the voice mail, a woman answers the phone. Her voice is thick with sleep. 

“Chase, what the hell do you want?”

“Hey, Stace, I- I wanted to call and let you know that someone is looking for the kids right now. He’s a local hero around the town and-”

“A hero? That guy in the red jumpsuit?”

“Yeah! He’s out right now looking for them.”

A heavy sigh sounds from the other side. “He’s a phony, Chase. Some egotistical child in a suit. Why the hell would you bring my hopes up over a guy who-”

“Wait, wait, listen! Please! He’s not a phony. He’s saved countless lives! I promise. If anyone is going to find the kids, he will. I-”

The phone hangs up. 

Chase sighs sadly, downing his drink. He rubs his eyes, then goes and gets his laptop, pulling up the video he had made with them and Jameson right before their disappearance.

In the dark shadows of the room, the walls begin to texturize and glitch. Two piercing green eyes glow in the darkness and watch the man at the table. 

A giggle rings out across the room.

Brody looks up and around, a feeling of dread washing over him as he hears that giggle. That terrifying sound that haunts his nightmares. He recognizes the sound anywhere. 

It’s the sinister man from his visions. It has to be. Where is he? 

Chase stands up and looks around cautiously. “Who’s there?”

The laugh answers back. 

“Show yourself!” Chase shouts, going to his room to grab the gun he keeps in there. He walks out into the living room and his weapon is cocked and loaded. 

“Leave!” He says as the dread grows stronger.

A voice right next to his ear whispers, “No.”

Fear courses through him and he jumps about ten feet, his finger pulling the trigger and shooting a hole into the wall. “Holy shit!”

Across the apartment, JJ wakes up with a start upon hearing the sound and gets up quickly, starting to get dressed so he can find out what happened with the sound that just woke him.

Near Chase’s computer, the air grows staticky and grainy, and a form materializes.

Chase’s ears ring from the sound of the gun going off and he knows someone will have heard. There will be hell to pay for that, and he barely has enough money for rent and food, let alone the cost of fixing the wall and for the police coming.

He glances up and there, by the computer stands the man from his visions: Greyish greenish skin, horrible green eyes with a piercing gaze, and a grin across his lips. The wound over his neck is there this time, blood seeping into his black shirt. 

“What do you want from me?!” Chase shouts, tears forming in his eyes once more. “Leave me alone!”

“Oh, dear. Little harsh isn’t it? Shooting at me for no reason?” the man grins widely.

“Who are you? Are you even real?” Chase yells.

“Real? Why does everyone ask me this?! Of course, I am! Look!” 

The man disappears and reappears next to Chase, gripping his throat and shoving him against the wall. 

Gasping for air, the shorter man claws at the hand around his neck, desperately trying to breathe. “S-Stop!” Chase chokes.

The man lets go. “Real enough for you now?”

“Who the fuck are you?”

“Shocked you don’t know. I am called Anti. I’m going to regain something I’ve lost, and you’re going to help me.” Anti grins. 

“A-Anti…? Why have you been following me? Why can’t you leave me alone!” Chase sobs, training the gun on the man who stands before him glitching like an old computer screen. 

Chuckling darkly, Anti runs his fingers through his hair, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it. He takes a long drag and blows the smoke into Chase’s face, causing the other to cough. 

“You’re such a pathetic child, Brody. I don’t leave you alone because it’s so fun watching you be miserable. Especially since… your children…” he trails off.

“My- What do you mean? What did you do to them?!” Chase shouts, gripping the man’s shirt. “Tell me where they are you scumbag!” 

Anti hisses and shoves Chase to the floor, kicking the gun aside. “Get your filthy hands off of me.”

Brody begins to stand, only to receive a booted foot to the chest, pressing him to the wall. Pressure begins building as Anti leans onto his leg, pressing all the air from Chase’s lungs. The man begins hitting Anti’s leg to get him off, but the pressure begins to build.

“You’re going to do what I fucking say or you’ll never see those stupid kids of yours ever again,” Anti spits, taking his shoe off of the man below, backing up and taking another long drag from the cigarette, flicking the ash from the tip which glitches away into nothing.

Chase stands up slowly, furious and angry tears still falling down his cheeks while Anti goes up to the gun on the floor and picks it up. 

“Sit down.” 

Chase sits and pours himself a drink to get his mind off of things.

“Are you ready to listen?”

He looks up darkly and nods.

“Good.”

“Where are-”

“Shut your fucking mouth!” Anti shouts, pointing the weapon toward Chase. “It’s time for you to listen!”

The other takes a long drink from his glass, unable to properly respond to the overwhelming fear in his body.

“You will never know where your children are. Do you know why?”

Chase doesn’t answer.

Anti’s lip curls in frustration at the apparent lack of fear exhibited by the man before him. His skin begins to break and disintegrate, his head glitching back and forth angrily, movements jagged and sporadic. 

“You’ve been a thorn in my side for a long time. An amusing thorn, but a thorn nonetheless. You let that Doctor know about _him_ when I had won. He was gone, but you just had to go and save your favorite boy. You’re in my way. It’s time to die, Chase. I lied about you seeing your kids again. Goodbye,” Anti grins, putting the cigarette between his lips, and pointing the weapon, and pulling the trigger.

Before Chase can even react, he hears a gunshot and everything feels as if it’s in slow motion. His drink sloshes from his glass which shatters on impact against the floor. His hat lies next to him, the picture of his children now spattered with flecks of crimson. His body thuds against the floor.

Anti glances over towards the door, feeling a presence, then puts out the cigarette on the bottom of his boot, blowing the smoke out of the side of his mouth. He looks through the peephole and sees a door at the end of the hallway close. He shrugs. 

“Two down. Three to go. God, it feels good to finally have things going my way,” he smiles, fizzling into the darkness to go hide and begin plotting his next move.

Jameson hurries into the apartment and begins frantically texting Jcakieboy Man, begging him to come home as he believes someone was shot. He had heard almost everything in the conversation between the pair and decided to start writing everything down so he wouldn’t forget.

Blood begins to stain the carpet, pooling below Chase’s head. About an hour passes and his phone begins to ring. 

The caller ID is Jackieboy Man.

It goes to voicemail and voices are heard on the other end. 

“Daddy, daddy! He found us!” “We’re okay! We’re coming home!” and other such things are heard on the other end. 

Jackieboy Man smiles and says, “Chase, I’m bringing your kids home.”

After that, he hangs up and looks at his messages, and his heart drops. 

**_11:21 PM_ **

**_Jameson: Jackie, you need to come back right now._ **

**_11:21 PM_ **

**_Jameson: There were gunshots in Chase’s apartment._ **

**_11:22 PM_ **

**_Jameson: I heard voices in there!_ **

**_11:22 PM_ **

**_Jameson: Please hurry!_ **

**_11:24 PM_ **

**_Jameson: Jackie, I think something bad happened. Please hurry._ **

Jackieboy Man quickly calls the police department to get people to the apartment as soon as possible and that he is bringing the Brody children to the station. 

The dispatcher tells him the police were already called and they found the man dead in his apartment on arrival.

Jackieboy Man’s heart plummets and he swallows harshly. He collects the children and has someone come pick them up from the warehouse. They have been quietly chatting with the hero, thanking him, sometimes crying with relief. They’ve been chatting amongst each other as well.

The police cars show up and the officers let the children know where they will be going and that they will speak to their parents to arrange for them to get picked up, but until then, they would be asking questions. 

The children agree and are put in the car while the officer speaks to Jackieboy Man, allowing him to call the kids’ mother and inform them of the news. 

The hero nods and watches the car drive off in the night before he dials the number he was given by the officer.

“Hello,” asks a woman with sleep thick in her voice.

“Hello, is this Stacy Hannigan?” Jackieboy Man asks.

“Speaking.”

“I have some news regarding your children and your ex-husband Chase Brody. I found your children this evening. They are safe and being taken to the police station on Main if you would like to pick them up there,” Jackieboy Man says slowly. 

“You- wait you found them?! Oh my god, oh my god! He was right! Thank you!” Stacy breaks down sobbing and says, “I’ll be there in twenty minutes!”

“Alright. I do have news regarding Chase Brody as well.”

“Yes, what is it,” she asks hurriedly. It sounds like she is moving around and bustling about to get ready to leave her home.

“He was found dead in his apartment earlier his evening about thirty minutes before your children were found.”

All movement on the other end of the phone stops. 

“Ma’am?”

Silence.

“Ma’am, are you alright?” Jackieboy Man asks delicately.

“He… Did… was it- did he do it himself or was...?”

“Police aren’t sure yet, however they speculate it may have been murder from what they told me. I am very sorry for your loss, but I thought I should inform you.”

Movement resumes. 

“Um… thank you for letting me know about my children and about… their father. I’ll be at the station soon.” 

The line is dropped and Jackieboy Man sighs, ending the call. 

He then texts Jameson:

**_12:02 AM_ **

**_Me: I’m sorry. I’m on my way home now._ **

**_12:03 AM_ **

**_Me: Are you alright?_ **

**_12:05 AM_ **

**_Jameson: I think so? It’s a lot to process._ **

**_12:05 AM_ **

**_Jameson: Excellent work on finding those kids though, old chap._ **

Jackieboy Man sighs and returns to the apartments where police have swarmed outside as well as an ambulance and a fire truck. Police tape crosses off the apartment doorway across the hall and a body on a stretcher passes him by. He walks into his apartment feeling queasy.

Jameson hurries up to him and welcomes him back, asking Jackieboy Man if he needs anything through sign language. 

The hero sighs softly. “I’m not sure JJ. Maybe a hug?”

Jameson obliges and hugs his roommate tightly. 

The evening goes by slowly and eventually the pair head to their rooms, resting for the night to talk to police and interviewers the next day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, y'all! If you made it to the end of this chapter, welcome! This was significantly longer than the last chapter (Almost by 1.5k words, yikes!). 
> 
> As always, I hope you enjoyed this. If you did, let me know what you think! I'd love to hear your feedback! 
> 
> Remember that you are loved and even in the darkest of times, there will be someone in your corner to back you up.
> 
> Stay safe everyone!  
> Soup

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading the first chapter of Just My Puppets!
> 
> Let me know what you think in the comments, and let me know if you would prefer the first-person and third-person viewpoints or just a third-person point of view. 
> 
> Anyway, I hope you all stay safe! Please eat something, drink some water, take your meds if you haven't, wear a mask, stay safe, and know that I'm proud of you. Don't forget to love each other, and take care of yourselves!
> 
> ~Soup


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